


we always will

by madhoneys



Category: Terminator (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, aka things go right for Sarah Connor and her loved ones every now and then
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26326963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madhoneys/pseuds/madhoneys
Summary: A series of fix-it oneshots starring my favorite family of badasses, ranging from the fluffy to the sad (or sometimes both).
Relationships: John Connor & Kyle Reese (Terminator), John Connor & Sarah Connor, John Connor & T-800 (Terminator), Sarah Connor/Kyle Reese
Comments: 29
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music for this chapter: Hozier - NFWMB

**_1993_ **

The challenges of living in the past were very different from how Kyle Reese had imagined them to be. Being a father was an unexpected job that he was hell-bent on doing right: after all, he would never have imagined that he’d be the one raising _John Connor_. (Talk about the tables turning.) He had also never imagined being married to Sarah Connor... he hadn’t even let himself dream about it, once upon a time. And yet they were together, almost a decade strong now.

They had both changed so much over the years. Back home Kyle had heard so many stories about her, about legendary Sarah Connor… but when he first met her she was still just a scared girl fighting for her life, and he fell for her all over again. These days, he had a lot of trouble thinking of her as the future legend—after all those mornings of seeing her grope for the coffee pot with eyes half-open—but he could still see how different she was, how much she had grown since they’d met that long-gone evening. To him she wasn’t the woman from the stories all those years ago, all those years from now; but also gone was the scared girl from nine years back. This Sarah ( _his_ Sarah) was a lot more like dynamite.

With a short fuse.

“Sarah, did you _have_ to punch him?!” Kyle yelled above his shoulder as they hightailed it out of the biker bar with a dozen very burly and very angry patrons right on their trail.

“He almost cheated us out of two grand!” Sarah shouted from somewhere behind him.

“Yes, but did you have to _punch him?!_ ”

They screeched to a halt on the other side of the parking lot, next to the car they'd left John in, fast asleep. Kyle and Sarah both swore up a storm trying to find the car keys, until John woke up from the racket, and with eyes widening, slammed the driver’s door open. They both dived in almost headfirst.

“FLOOR IT!” Kyle shouted as he threw himself into the passenger’s seat and tossed the keys into Sarah’s lap, and she did the second the engine came to life. With tires screeching and the pissed-off bikers almost at their car, she zoomed out of the parking lot and took off for the road. They had just about managed to get out of this one with everything intact.

Well, almost everything. After making sure that John was all right, having been left alone for a grand total of three minutes as Kyle had gone to see what was taking Sarah so long in the bar (he was fine, just irritated), Kyle turned to check on his wife, and the first thing he noticed was the bleeding cut on her right arm. It wasn’t a big one, but it made his heart constrict all the same.

“You’re hurt,” he said to her.

Sarah looked down at her arm and shrugged. “Must have been when he threw his glass at me. It’s nothing serious, don’t worry.”

But by now Kyle was already halfway gone under the seat, hunting for the first-aid kit. “Pull over,” he said once he emerged.

“Kyle, honey, it’s all right…”

“We’re not going anywhere until I patch you up,” Kyle said. “Pull over.” This in his _no arguing, young man_ voice, which he usually only used with John (and always felt weird about afterwards).

Sarah shrugged and stopped under a streetlamp. Kyle took out the bandages and disinfectant and began to clean the cut, holding Sarah’s arm carefully into the light with his weaker right hand. Up close, the wound was deeper than he had expected, and he felt worry squeeze his heart again as he wiped off the blood. He started on the edges next; he was barely touching Sarah, but when the disinfectant reached the raw skin, she still winced and hissed. Kyle jolted a little himself at the sound and looked up.

“Sorry,” he whispered. He knew perfectly well that Sarah could take the pain, but he still hated to see her hurt. He threw away the cotton ball he was cleaning the wound with, and before going hunting for bandages, he took a moment to smooth the fingers of his free hand over Sarah’s. “I’ll be done in just a second.”

The look Sarah gave him in reply was so fond, so warm, that Kyle had to glance away… so he didn’t see her dart forward until her lips were on his. Before he could close his eyes, she pulled back, smiling at him still with that warm look in her eyes. Kyle blinked.

“What was that for?”

“Nothing,” Sarah said. “I love you, you know.”

Kyle had to smile too at that. “I love you too,” he said very softly, like the words were so precious he was afraid to use them, and Sarah put her hand on his, squeezing gently…

...and that was when John chose to go, “Mom, Dad! _Ew!_ ” and they both cracked up.

“Hold still,” Kyle said, still chuckling, as he started to bandage the cut. Sarah nodded with a grin, then leaned forward and gently bumped her forehead against his; they stayed like that, breathing the same air, until he finished.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music for this chapter: Hurts - Silver Lining

**_1984_ **

When Kyle woke up, the first thing he registered was the pain.

Pain was all right; that he could deal with. Despite his instincts screaming at him to move, he allowed himself a moment to let the agony wash over him so he could identify the source, then lock it away. After a blinding second where it seemed to be everywhere, it slowly coalesced into two spots in his chest and right shoulder. Limited mobility—that was bad.

The fact that he had no idea where he was and where Sarah could be was a lot worse.

He muffled a groan, trying to sit up, scanning his surroundings even as he weakly flopped back down. He was lying on a stiff bed, high up from the ground, in a pale beige room lit by white, glaring light. A hospital. He moved again. And then he felt a hand on his good shoulder holding him down gently, and he tensed up. His head whipped to the side, searching for a threat, and he saw her.

Her face was pale and haggard, puffy with lack of sleep, and her eyes were rimmed with red, but it was Sarah, sitting in a chair next to his bed. She was alive. Relief washed through Kyle in a wave so great it made even the pain quiet down. He let out a breath in a long, ragged sigh, making his wounded chest burn.

“Hey,” Sarah said softly, and smiled at him, but it looked a little forced.

“Sarah,” Kyle wanted to say, but all that came out was a weak croaking sound. “Sarah,” he tried again. “Are you all right?” A thought cut into him. “Is the Terminator—”

He forced himself to remember the last thing from before he’d passed out from his injuries a lifetime ago, and came up with a blurry image of Sarah crawling into a hydraulic press with that machine following by—in pieces, but still moving, still locked on its target. He tried to sit up again, but his body wouldn’t comply.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Sarah said, smoothing a lock of hair away from his forehead, caressing him like she could smooth the worried creases on his brow too. “It’s over. I killed it.”

“How…” was all Kyle managed.

Sarah gave him a faint smile. “The hydraulic press. I crushed that fucker into a pancake.”

Kyle stared at her; then he laughed. He couldn’t help it: a mix of pride and relief and amazement (since when did she talk like that?) washed over him, making him weak, making him giddy. “It’s over,” he said, weighing the words carefully, letting their truth sink in. “But are you all right?”

Sarah shrugged. “I broke my leg a little,” she admitted, and Kyle’s spine went rigid at the words. “When I threw myself down the stairs before you blew up that _thing_. But it’s okay. I’m mending.” A pause. “You’re a lot worse off than I am. The doctors wouldn’t tell me exactly what was wrong with you, but a nurse told me your right lung was...” Tears were creeping into her voice now, and Kyle reached out to touch her, anything to chase them away.

“I’m mending,” he whispered, and Sarah laughed, holding his hand to her face. But that haunted look didn’t leave her eyes. Kyle had only known her for a few days—a few days? He’d known her forever—but well enough to see that there was something she wasn’t telling him.

“Sarah,” he said. “What is it?”

Sarah gazed back at him, steady for a second. But then she looked away, and whatever she was holding back broke through.

“The police called me,” she said, her voice cracking. “My mom…”

And Kyle knew what she meant even before she burst into tears.

He pushed again and this time managed to sit up, clamping down the agony with practiced discipline; ignoring Sarah’s wide-eyed protests, he took her in his arms. Well, arm—his right hand wouldn’t move the way he wanted it to, and he could only hold her in an awkward half-embrace. But she melted into his side all the same as he kissed her forehead, and rocked her like a child, and whispered “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...” And she cried and cried until a nurse came in and started yelling at them both.

Sarah turned over to the other side on the uncomfortable hospital bed, and sighed. Her leg was still troubling her, but the thoughts troubled her worse. It was the hardest in the small hours of the morning, when she had no visiting doctors and nurses, no phone calls to make to the insurance company, no medical tests to sit through… nothing but to wait for sleep and know that it wouldn’t come.

Faces flashed before her eyes every time she closed them. Her mother. Ginger and Matt. Lieutenant Traxler and his partner. The people in Tech Noir. Kyle lying on his back in the factory, unconscious, bleeding to death. All that death, all that agony—all because of her.

Logically, she knew it wasn’t her fault any more than being born was, or one day giving birth to John Connor was… but in the middle of the night with nothing to chase it away, the thought came back, insistent, poisonous. Sarah thought of her mother again and didn’t fight the sobbing building up in her throat.

Then a rustle from the corridor made her freeze. She knew the rhythms of the hospital well enough by now to know that usually no one was walking around at this hour; and then adrenaline rocked through her, ice-cold and dizzying, when the handle to her door began to turn.

Her first instinct was to leap out of bed, run for the window, anything… but before the thought could materialize into action, the door opened and in the dim light she saw Kyle standing in her doorway, swaying on his feet. The IV bag that had been with him this afternoon was gone.

“Kyle!” Sarah yelped, and did jump out of bed now. She grabbed the crutch she had to use with her broken leg and limped through the room as Kyle tottered towards her. They met in the middle in an awkward tangle of limbs as Kyle all but swooned into her arms, and Sarah tried to support both their weights on her good leg.

“What are you doing here?” Sarah whispered, steering Kyle towards the bed before he could fall or worse, faint.

“I came to see you,” Kyle said simply, and Sarah’s heart throbbed with an emotion she couldn’t name. She couldn’t imagine the willpower it would have taken to get up with those injuries, let alone find her room all the way at the other end of the corridor. To see her.

“You shouldn’t have come,” she all but snapped, and winced as she heard herself; but Kyle didn’t seem offended. Just tired, real tired.

“You need…” he began, faltered, and finished weakly: “...someone.”

 _I need_ you, Sarah thought, and realized that they both knew this already. That was why he’d come all the way here, barely-healing wounds probably tearing under the bandages as he walked towards her. Because he knew she needed him. 

Sarah started crying again.

The next few seconds were of clumsy shifting and murmured comfort and the sounds of Sarah’s hiccuping sobs as Kyle guided her gently down on the bed until they were both lying down, with her head resting on his good shoulder. And then he was holding her, letting her cry to him, whispering to her through his exhaustion. Keeping her company with her ghosts.

It was a long night.

The sun was just starting to break through the night when Sarah woke up from a shallow sleep—terrible, but the most she’d had since she’d been interred in the hospital. She felt Kyle next to her before she saw him: his breath on her face, his arm still around her, the heat of his body blazing through the thin hospital clothes. And then she opened her eyes and looked into his sleeping face, pale and restless-looking as he frowned and muttered something, chasing his own dream-ghosts. But even like this, he looked so… young. Vulnerable.

 _He’s the only person in my life now_ , Sarah thought. _And I’m the only one for him, too._ The thought brought on the tears again, and she blinked them away, burrowing deeper into Kyle’s embrace… but there was something strangely bittersweet about it. Because she needed him and he needed her and he wouldn’t leave her side now, not after all they’d been through and all that was coming. They only had each other… but they were in this together. Maybe forever.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music for this chapter: Power Glove - Motorcycle Cop

**_1994_ **

John didn’t think about his parents these days, thank you very much.

That was what he would have said to anyone who asked, but he knew better. The truth was, he couldn’t stop thinking about them—being in foster care with a pair of assholes for the eighth month now had that effect on you. His father, the military man from the future. His mother, tough as nails. The both of them ready to take on the world at any moment, teaching him how to do it himself one day.

Yeah, right. One of them in prison, the other in a psych ward, both under maximum security lockdown. A fine, upstanding couple of whackos. Feeding him bullshit and nightmares all his life.

Every time he thought of them he couldn’t help but hate them—and that just hurt worse, so he tried to put them out of his mind. And failed, always.

That was the cycle he was spending his days in when the two Terminators crashed into his life and he realized just how wrong he’d been.

Sarah didn’t feel happy at all to see John at the mental facility—the relief that he was all right for now and the anger that he’d risked himself so stupidly for her sake were too overwhelming. But the more she thought about it the more she understood. All those years ago she had tried to protect her mother from the Terminator too, however she could. _And it wasn’t enough…_ but she pushed _that_ thought away immediately. She’d learned all too well that thinking about the dead would only make them haunt you. John should have left her, but he couldn’t. No matter how stupid the choice to get her instead was… he just wasn’t there yet.

Trying to figure out what to do next as the police cruiser raced down the streets was one of the most agonizing things she’d ever lived through. Her mind knew that they had to get out of the city as fast as they could, but every cell in her body was screaming to get Kyle, to get him away from that nightmare thing prowling the streets, coming after him. But to turn back now would likely mean having to face it again; and she couldn’t put John in danger like that.

An old memory came to her mind, not for the first time.

_“Do you know who the father is? So I won’t tell him to get lost when I meet him?”_

_“No. John never said much about him. I know he dies before the war…”_

Here she was having to make a choice between her husband and her son… and she chose her son. She hated herself already, but she knew Kyle would understand.

“We’re getting out of here,” she told the hulking machine at the wheel, willing her voice to be steady when all she wanted was to sob. “Speed up.”

And the Terminator complied. At least until John shouted, “Stop! That’s an order!” and it slammed on the brakes so hard Sarah almost got whiplash as they jerked to a stop.

Terminators taking orders from her son. That was still a new one.

“Mom, I know what you’re gonna say, but we’re getting Dad now,” John said to Sarah, and he gave her such a good imitation of Kyle’s _no arguing, young man_ look that her heart ached.

“John,” she began tiredly, the words coming out smooth from repetition, “you’re too important…”

“Yes, I know, but he’s important too! We can’t leave him out there with that thing! You know it’s gonna go straight after him now!”

“And it’s gonna go straight after _you_ if you go back, _if_ it hasn’t gotten him already, so we’re getting out _right now, John!_ ”

She shouted the last words so loud that John flinched; but after that second of shock, he held her gaze evenly. Sure of himself now.

“No,” he simply said. “Look… Don’t tell me you want to leave him there.”

“This isn’t a matter of what I want and don’t want, John, _listen_ to me…”

“No, you listen, Mom! For once!” And John was shouting now too, and boy, could he pack a volume. But they’d been having this argument for too long already.

“Drive,” Sarah told the cyborg again. “Out of the city, to the south. Now. We can’t stay in one place.”

“Affirmative,” it said, and started the car. How she hated that empty tone of voice.

“Fine,” John said, and to Sarah’s surprise, smiled. “We won’t bust Dad out of jail… _He_ will.” And he nodded towards the Terminator.

Yeah, right.

As if he’d read her mind, John said: “We’ll make sure Dad knows he’s a good guy. We’ll give him a message he’ll recognize. And don’t worry, I won’t go anywhere near the prison. You and I’ll be waiting somewhere else, and if they’re not there by a given time, we’ll floor it and get out. We’ll meet up with them at Enrique’s or something... but we need to hurry. We need to find Dad before the 1000 does.” He tapped the Terminator’s shoulder. “Prison’s to the southeast of LA about half an hour away. We need to go.”

It was… not a terrible plan. A terrible _idea_ to begin with, but Sarah was weighing it carefully anyway, advantages and disadvantages. She didn’t like being around that machine her son was so at ease with, but she knew what it was capable of. It would be unfazed by bullets or almost anything the humans could throw at him, short of a tanker truck to the face. It had already broken into a maximum security facility easily. And if there was a chance that it could pull that off again…

In the worst case scenario, John would still have her—and she knew how to defend her son. But if they managed to get Kyle out and escape, he’d have one more person to watch over him.

And Kyle would be with them again.

“This is a bad idea,” she told John earnestly as they sped through the night. “What will the message be?”

Kyle was even less happy than Sarah to be out of prison. Kyle was apoplectic, actually.

“What were you thinking?!” he shouted as they sped away due south in their stolen car (they’d had to ditch the police cruiser a long time ago—too conspicuous). John was sitting between him and Sarah on the backseat so he’d be protected on all sides. “You could have been _killed_ , John!”

John sighed. “It’s all right, Dad,” he said, rubbing his eyes, looking older than his ten years with exhaustion. “Mom’s already yelled my head off once. You don’t need to do it again.”

Kyle went red… but a pang of sadness cut off the anger as he looked at his son. John wasn’t _John Connor_ yet; all that Sarah and Kyle had taught him aside, he was still a ten year-old who had wanted to see his parents.

Sarah had no excuse, though.

“I can’t believe you went along with this,” he told her.

Sarah didn’t flinch at his tone, but the look she gave him was dark. “John was right,” she said. “We couldn’t leave you there. We need you _here_. With us. There’s safety in numbers.” The way she looked into his eyes told him everything… their real reasons.

Kyle hated to be so rough with both of them, but this had still been a serious oversight.

“You should have left me,” he said. “I was a _liability_ ,” and Sarah did flinch a little this time. John just looked aghast at the very idea. Kyle paused. “I could have led that Terminator straight to you. Or the police.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t,” John pointed out, but Kyle knew that had just been blind luck. His son didn’t seem to think so, though. “I knew the big guy could get you out safe,” he said, and gave the T-800 an affectionate punch in the shoulder.

The cyborg was unfazed. “I have been programmed with detailed evasion maneuvers,” it said.

John nodded along sagely. “See?”

That got Kyle fuming again. Trust a Terminator?! The idea repulsed him.

He’d caught a news story about the mayhem at the psych ward where Sarah had been held, and he’d put the breakout plan he’d been working on for months into action immediately. Never mind that it wasn’t ready, that there were still uncertain factors—he needed to get to his son and Sarah right _now_. And then, halfway out of his cell block, he’d seen the T-800 coming towards him, and he’d almost gotten caught by the guards trying his damnedest to escape, running on instinct, no matter in what direction. (He suspected he wasn’t alone with that as he watched the grim looks his wife was giving the thing.)

Despite the message it had shouted to him over the noise and confusion— _“I was assigned to protect you. You and your family have been targeted for termination”_ —that had given him a moment’s pause, the words a strange echo of something he’d said himself a long time ago, the machine had had to literally drag him out kicking and screaming from the prison. It could have been a trick, after all. Deep down he was still half thinking it was.

“You should know better than to get friendly with _that_ ,” he said, nodding towards the Terminator, and John glared at him.

“ _That_ saved my life today,” he pointed out. “More than once. And you and Mom, too. We’d all be dead already if it wasn’t for him.”

“I don’t care,” Kyle told him. “I don’t trust it. And I doubt your mother does. As soon as we’re in a safe place, we’re ditching it.”

“You cannot,” the Terminator cut in in his clipped, toneless voice. “My mission is to protect John Connor. I am not leaving.”

“Listen, you son of a bitch, if I have to get you away from my son—” Kyle began.

And that’s when the Terminator said, “Chill out, dickwad,” and everyone froze.

There was a great big silence. Kyle blinked. “...am I having a stroke,” he finally managed.

With a very loud snort, John buried his face in both hands; his ears were red, and from the way his shoulders were shaking, Kyle could tell he was laughing hard. Sarah was studying the window determinedly, but her lips were twitching.

“I can learn how to behave more like a human,” the Terminator said helpfully, and it was Sarah who had to hide a snort this time. “John is teaching me. I have been reprogrammed to obey his orders.”

“Oh,” Kyle said, still drawing a blank. A Terminator calling him a dickwad in complete earnesty was so bizarre that it somehow broke him. “I see.”

He contemplated this weird backwards situation they’d somehow landed in—one Terminator protecting them from another. He despised these things; but this one hadn’t tried to hurt any of them so far. Normal Terminators were programmed to kill their targets on sight. And as much as he hated to admit it, John had been right that they might have been killed by the T-1000 without it… not even knowing what they were up against.

 _I have been reprogrammed_.

“You keep an eye on him,” he told John gruffly when he could speak again. “You too, Sarah.”

John punched the air. “Hell yeah!” he yelled, looking very pleased with himself indeed; then he grinned at the T-800, and boy, would Kyle need to get used to _this_. “Welcome to the gang, man.”

Kyle couldn’t help but bristle, but he had to keep his instincts at bay. _Safety in numbers_ , Sarah had said. One more ally. And he did owe it to the machine that he was here now, with his family. Holding on to them in this new nightmare.

He leaned back in the seat, away from the cyborg, so he could look at John and Sarah. “You know,” he said quietly, “I _am_ glad to see you two.”

John beamed at him, and gave him a tight hug; Kyle couldn’t help but smile a little. He held his son with one arm, and reached out towards Sarah with the other at the same time that she did for him. Their hands met in the middle in a gentle touch as their gazes locked together. They didn’t need to speak.

That was all they had time for now, all the tenderness they could spare through the violence. But they would get through it like they already had once. Ready to take on the world again for each other and for their son… no matter what it had in store for them this time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music for this chapter: The Everlove - I'm Dangerous

_1994_

The happiness to see Enrique and his family again, and the relief of being in a safe place for the time being, lasted barely a few minutes for Sarah. Black thoughts churned in her head as she watched Kyle tinker with their car’s engine, while their son and his new protector went for the weapons cache.

She wasn’t thinking of John right now, a rare occurrence ever since she’d found out what they were up against. He was the priority for all of them, and always would be. But something was troubling her now. Something she’d kept thinking about again and again for the past few years until she’d gotten locked up and too busy with thoughts of escape and protecting their son.

 _“John never said much about him,”_ Kyle had told him ten years ago about John’s father, not knowing yet that he’d been talking about himself. _“I know he dies before the war…”_

And the war was very close to starting now. Kyle had escaped death once back in 1984—barely. Was it his fate to die for her and John, on the run from a Terminator? Or would something else happen? Something else to tear him out of their lives?

And what about all those people who would die in Skynet’s attacks? Kyle never talked about them, but he’d never let her and John forget either—the coming war was always between them, in everything they said and did, even at their happiest. The clock was ticking. He’d gone along with Sarah’s failed plan to blow up Cyberdyne, but she knew well enough that deep down, he hadn’t thought that they could change anything.

Could they have all those lives on their conscience, knowing what would happen, if it was destiny?

Sarah jolted out of deep thought when she nicked her hand with the knife she’d been playing with. She’d sat down at a table just for a minute before going to check on their weapons, but that minute had somehow turned into several. She didn’t even notice what she was doing with that knife… until she looked down at the table and saw that she had carved something there.

NO FATE, the letters screamed at her.

No fate… and another old memory came to her, of Kyle’s voice from a long-gone night.

 _Your son gave me a message to you. Made me memorize it..._ **_The future is not set in stone._ **

All those years from now, that was what John would choose to tell her. And if she had a choice after all in how everything played out, what wouldn’t she do for the sake of her family? For humanity?

She stood up. She strode over to Kyle.

He could tell instantly that something was troubling her. After ten years together he knew her every expression, understood everything she told him without words.

“What is it?” he asked, putting down the bottle of engine coolant in his hand. “Are you all right?”

Sarah frowned… then she brightened. Even now she couldn’t help but tease him a little. “How was prison?” she asked Kyle.

Up went his eyebrows. “Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he said. “Why?”

Sarah’s smile turned into a grim stare. “Would you risk it again?”

“What are you talking about?” Kyle replied, eyebrows furrowing.

“I’m going back,” Sarah said, shoulders squared and voice firm. “We can’t let this happen. For John’s sake, and yours, and everyone else’s. I’m paying Cyberdyne another visit.” She gave her husband a feral look. “And this time I’m not leaving until it’s up in flames and _gone_.”

“Sarah,” Kyle tried to say, “the Terminator…”

“Is still looking for John,” Sarah cut in. “He’ll be safe with you and _him_.” And she pointed at where the T-800 was attentively listening to John chattering about something as they hauled guns and ammo out of the small cellar… not even realizing that she’d called the cyborg _him_ instead of _it_ for the first time. “And you know I can take care of myself.” Kyle knew that better than anyone.

Kyle looked very unhappy, so she stepped closer and pulled him into a hug. “It’s okay,” she whispered, kissing his cheek, his lips, trying to chase the dark look away. “I know what I’m doing this time. You two take care of John.” She drew away. “I’ll be back.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music for this chapter: The Midnight - Sunset

_1984_

It had been a burning hot day on the highway, and Sarah was very tired. She was well into the third month now, and she sat in the passenger’s seat with one hand protectively over her belly—a reflex even when there was nothing in the vicinity to protect her baby from, when she had a trained German shepherd in the back of their truck ready to alert her if it was otherwise. She endured the ride in silence as the day slowly turned into night, even as she caught Kyle giving her worried looks again and again. Then finally they both broke.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Sarah asked as Kyle brought the car to a stop in the middle of nowhere under a dark sky.

A few months ago Kyle might have replied something blunt and to the point, but now he smiled a little and said “Only if you’re thinking what I’m thinking,” and Sarah laughed. He’d definitely made progress in the “sense of humor” area.

“Okay, tough guy, spit it out,” she said, giving his arm a playful punch, and Kyle got serious.

“You’re tired,” he said. “And we’re nowhere near a motel. I think we’ll have to stop here for the night. You can’t sleep like that.”

Sarah didn’t mention how the back seat of the truck wasn’t exactly the best bed either; but she was used to back seats by now, on their long roadtrip through California, Arizona and Central America. She turned a little pink as she recalled just _how_ used to them they both were. Besides, she was pretty exhausted by now. They’d agreed to travel for as long as they could both stand it every day, all the way to somewhere deep and safe in South America, but she was still the first to break every day. She knew it would be that way for quite a while… but she’d get tougher over time. She also knew that.

“All right, back seat and breakfast it is,” Sarah said, and Kyle laughed as he got out of the car and hurried to the other side to help her out. He was even more “get down, Mrs. President” towards her than usual since they’d found out she was pregnant… but sometimes she did need the help. Sometimes she even enjoyed being fussed over. Just a little.

“Okay, Pugsly, trade places,” she said to the dog, and Pugsly Junior jumped out of the car obediently and climbed back into the passenger’s seat. They’d played this routine pretty often since they’d set out.

“Careful,” Kyle grunted as they settled in the back seat—just wide enough to accommodate one person, so they usually slept with Sarah on top of him these days. Kyle said he didn’t mind the weight. Said it anchored him somehow, kept the nightmares away. Sarah did still wake up to his murmurs and cries in the night sometimes, but a lot less often than before.

There was a moment of quiet shifting around as they both found their usual sleeping positions, with one of Kyle’s arms draped over Sarah and the other reaching under the driver’s seat where they kept a .357 Magnum at all times. His right arm had lost some mobility recovering from his injuries in those first few chaotic weeks, but it didn’t matter: he was just as good a shot with the left. And Sarah herself wasn’t far behind these days.

This time, though, Kyle took a moment to smooth a palm over Sarah’s belly before he reached under the seat to be near the gun, and Sarah smiled… until she heard him make a choked-off sound, and she realized that Kyle was crying.

She pushed herself up on one elbow, peering at him with alarm. “Kyle, honey, what is it?”

Kyle shook his head and hurriedly wiped his eyes. “Nothing,” he said, but Sarah knew better than to leave it at that.

“Were you thinking about…” She paused. “Home?” It hurt to say that, like Kyle’s home wasn’t with her now, but she didn’t know what else to call the grim future he’d come from.

From the look in his eyes, she could tell that she’d gotten it right.

“I was just…” Kyle began, swallowed, started again. “I was looking at the stars. You couldn’t see the stars in LA. And where I come from, you know better than to look for them. I…” He looked at Sarah, not even bothering to hide the tears now. “When I came here, I wanted to meet you. But I’d never thought I could have this. You, and John, and everything. That I could be… a part of this...”

“Oh, Kyle,” Sarah whispered. She couldn’t say anything to this confession; she couldn’t imagine Kyle not being in her world now, and she couldn’t imagine what it would be like when it was all gone—because one day it would be, she knew that. Who knew where they would be by then? And that made her tear up as well, so she pushed the thought aside and took Kyle’s face between her hands and kissed him hard, almost desperately. And as he kissed her back and clung to her—gentle, careful, but so strong—she thought that maybe sharing these moments with him would be enough… for now.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music for this chapter: Mother Mother - Free

_1984_

“Will you marry me?” Sarah asked one morning, and Kyle choked on his coffee.

Convincing Kyle to marry her wasn’t as easy as Sarah had thought it would be. Kyle clearly felt bad for giving her such a hard time about something she wanted so much, but he didn’t want Sarah to tie herself to him. She beat aside most of his concerns like a battering ram: she’d already gotten him a fake ID so he wouldn’t walk around like a ghost, and a pair of cheap silver rings would do, more symbolic than anything, she told him. But Sarah just wasn’t able to get past Kyle’s last objection. Himself.

He loved her, he would have been happy to stay with her for the rest of his days, and he knew that she loved him… but John’s father loomed between them like a cold specter, always making him worry that what they had would one day fall apart. When she walked away, he told her—and it made her chest ache to see the resignation in his eyes—he wanted her to be able to do it without looking back. He owed her that.

But then he found out that Sarah was pregnant… and that changed everything.

“Congratulations,” the wedding officiant told them once everything was signed and said, and Sarah beamed.

It had been the simplest possible ceremony, just a signing of papers and trading of rings, really; they hadn't invited anyone, hadn't dressed up (she’d insisted on wearing something elegant, but definitely not wedding clothing), hadn't even changed their last names. She’d asked the officiant to keep it as short as possible, noting how ill at ease Kyle looked in a chapel. But the thought that they now belonged together this way was enough for Sarah. It was all she had wanted ever since she’d realized how hard she’d fallen for Kyle Reese in the grand total of two days—she had known all along that she was in this for life. In more ways than one.

And when she turned to him for a kiss, what she saw in his eyes underneath all the discomfort made her all but throw herself at him and kiss him like nothing else mattered. And for a while, nothing did… until the middle-aged wedding officiant cleared her throat behind them, and they sprang apart, remembering themselves. Sarah could feel herself blushing under the woman’s half-annoyed, half-amused gaze, but the joy inside her swept all the embarrassment away.

“Thank you,” she said to the officiant, aware that she sounded a little breathless, and took Kyle by the arm. “And now, mister, we _celebrate_.”

The wedding officiant watched the newlyweds leave with a small frown. They were just kids, really: nineteen and twenty-one, all but marrying out of high school. Normally, she didn’t like to take on weddings for people this young. But there was something about their eyes, the blazing intensity in his and the strength in hers, that had given her a strange thought when they had come in to see her for the first time— _these two have been through a lot together already_. That was what had made her agree right away to officiate their wedding.

_Good luck, you two._

“Kyle,” Sarah said when they made it back to their apartment, butterflies in her stomach now that she was thinking of having her wedding night, “do you know what most men say about marriage?”

Kyle gave her a puzzled look. “What?” he asked, shrugging out of his suit jacket, and Sarah drank in the sight.

One of her hands wandered to the zipper of her dress. “They say that marriage is when the fun part of life ends. So be prepared to _suffer_.” She gave him a wicked smile, starting to unzip herself…

And Kyle just went, in his usual earnest way, “Those people are idiots,” and Sarah started laughing so hard she had to let go of the zipper and support herself on the doorframe.

“What?” Kyle asked, his expression changing from puzzled to bewildered. “Did I say something…”

“You said just the right thing,” Sarah assured him, still giggling, shimmying out of her dress. “I love you, you know?”

And if Kyle hadn’t understood what she’d been laughing at, he could definitely understand when she all but tackled him into bed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music for this chapter: ZZ Top - Sharp Dressed Man

_1984_

“We really need to go clothes shopping,” Sarah said, and Kyle looked up from inhaling the pancakes she’d made for breakfast. “You can’t keep wearing the same three shirts over and over again.”

“You know I don't care. I thought you could let me borrow something if it came to that,” Kyle replied with a shrug. “Aren’t we tight on the money?” He was scruffy as always, with horrible bedhead, shirtless and barefoot, wearing a pair of sweatpants half a size too big. Sarah couldn’t help but smile a little as she took in the sight of him. She would share anything she had with him, and did—but he needed to have more of his own stuff as well.

“We’ll have to set out soon,” she said. “You’re almost recovered, and I’m done organizing our savings.” She didn’t need to add, _We’re not safe here_ —they both knew. She snorted. “Do you think people would notice if you went out in a blouse?”

Kyle sighed. “You’re right,” he said. “But only basic stuff, right?”

Sarah insisted that he try on everything just to be sure, but even so, they progressed very fast with the shopping. A few shirts, t-shirts, pants, two sturdy pairs of shoes; their eventual destination was South America, so they skipped on the winter wardrobe for now. After less than an hour Sarah was stepping up to the register to pay for everything, leaving Kyle to wander around aimlessly in the department store, drinking in the sights. He’d lived in the prewar time for more than a month now, but he just couldn’t get used to the openness, the abundance of everything. He still had to purposely straighten his back and walk with his head held high rather than crouch into a benevolent shadow and scan for threats.

He was walking by a rack of coats when he saw it. A jacket, sturdy-looking, reinforced… leather. Real leather, and brand new. That was really what made him carefully take it off the rack and hold it in his hands with something not unlike awe. He’d seen and touched leather before, belts and old boots scavenged from the ruins, but nothing this new, this shiny, this deceptively soft even as his fingers felt the tough padding underneath.

It was childish of him and he was chiding himself for it even as he was doing it… but he slipped it on, just to see what it felt like. It fit perfectly.

Sarah, done at the register, had gone to see just where Kyle had wandered off to. She knew he had a habit of admiring everything wherever they went—it half warmed her heart and half made it ache to see just how awed he was by the world she’d taken for granted all her life. She always let him wander for as long as he wanted no matter where they went when they were out together; but some deep part of her preferred not to have him out of her sight for too long. Besides, they were done here.

She saw his head above a coat rack—he was apparently trying on clothes with a strange, reverent look in his eyes. Had they forgotten something?

“Kyle, we should...” she started as she went around the rack, and she saw him. “Go…”

That was all she could say when she saw what he was wearing, and her mouth went dry. A black leather jacket, a perfect fit at the waist and shoulders, emphasizing his skin tone and showing off his muscular figure in ways that really should be illegal. Her heart wasn’t strong enough for sights like this.

Kyle turned towards her, giving her a look from the front, and she completely forgot what she had wanted to say to him. “Sarah,” he said. Did he look a little guilty, like he’d been caught in something? “I was…”

Sarah was aware that she was probably beet red, thinking what she was currently thinking, and didn’t particularly care. “Yeah, I see,” she said airily. “You found a jacket.”

“No, I just wanted to see…” Kyle began, and shrugged out of the leather jacket, to Sarah’s great regret. “Sorry. Let’s go.”

Sarah shook her head, stepped up to him and took the jacket out of his hands before he could put it back on the rack. “No, not yet,” she said. “We’re buying this.”

She turned it around, looking for the price tag, and her heart almost skipped a beat when she found it—but not even that could deter her from making a beeline for the counter. Goddamn if she was going to leave this thing here after the way she’d seen Kyle look at it… and especially after she’d seen him wearing it.

“Sarah,” Kyle was saying, “I don’t need another jacket, it’s okay…”

“No,” Sarah said, “but you need _this_ one. I’m buying it for you, mister, no arguing.” A pause, and she went red again. “Will you put it back on when we’re done here?”

Kyle blinked; and then he seemed to put two and two together when he noticed Sarah’s blush, because he smiled. In a way that made her shiver.

As they walked to the counter, an employee tidying up a shoe rack who’d witnessed the whole exchange ducked away with a grin.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music for this chapter: Welshly Arms - Sanctuary

_ 1985 _

They’d almost made it through the night this time when John woke up and started wailing like a fire alarm.

Kyle groaned as he jerked awake to the sound; they’d been through this routine many times before, but even as a soldier used to staying awake during patrols and long, dangerous nights, he would have liked a  _ little  _ sleep every now and then. John was currently three months old, and seemed to have very different opinions than him and Sarah on a good night’s rest.

Next to Kyle, Sarah stirred and mumbled something, slowly coming to; a look at the clock on the trailer wall told him that it was 5:47 AM. He turned back to her.

“Sarah,” he murmured, “whose turn is it to get up with the baby?”

Sarah muttered something which coalesced into “Mhghh don’t know…” Apparently she wasn’t quite in the waking world yet. “Hold on,” she added, a little clearer now, “I’ll do it…” And she started to push herself up on one elbow, eyes still half-closed.

Kyle changed his mind. “No, no, I’ll do it,” he said, gently pushing Sarah back on the pillow. “Get some more rest.” He kissed her on the nose, and she smiled as she sank back into sleep. Kyle was smiling too as he strode over to the crib and looked down at the baby. John was currently in his third minute of top-of-the-lungs wailing, and Kyle felt the same fierce warmth in his heart as every single time he looked at him. Baby John Connor… his son.

“Up you get, young man,” he whispered as he took John out of the crib and into his arms, and John quieted down as he gently rocked him. From the bed, Kyle could hear Sarah say something in her sleep as John peered up at him with huge eyes and cooed. Kyle chuckled at both of them, then turned around and looked out the trailer window.

Just in time to see the sunrise.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music for this chapter: she - By Your Side

_1984_

It was the beginning of a burning hot April, almost a month since the nightmare had ended, and Sarah had never felt so glad just to be alive.

The new apartment she was renting for herself and Kyle on the far side of L.A. was small and cramped and generally crappy, with the paint peeling in the bathroom and the only bed so tiny the two of them barely fit on it together. But it was all right for now—and it was theirs. These days, every time she thought of herself a thought about Kyle followed, the two of them alone together in a strange world. He was still recovering from his injuries (the doctors had told him he’d likely never regain complete use of his right arm), tense and skittish in this new time he was living in, forever a soldier on the lookout for danger, determined to keep Sarah safe. And Sarah was just as determined to keep him _happy_ , to show him every comfort of her world while they could still enjoy them. After having heard about all the horrors he had endured, she felt she couldn’t do anything less for him.

One thing she had noticed even when she’d barely known him was all the love Kyle had for living things. These days, every time they went out somewhere he would stop sooner or later, stealing a second or two when he thought Sarah wasn’t looking, just to admire something as innocuous as an evergreen bush or a flower growing between cracks of the sidewalk. It broke Sarah’s heart to know that he hadn’t seen anything like this growing up. And the dogs, they just loved him. She knew part of Kyle’s unwavering insistence to pet dogs he met was an instinct left over from his own time, but she never believed that it was the only reason he did it.

They weren’t allowed to keep a dog in the apartment no matter how much they both wanted to; but when Sarah spotted the tiny ivy plant in the florist’s window, it took less than a second’s thought to decide. Sneaking it home without Kyle noticing was no small feat, given how observant he was, but she’d managed to hide the ivy for a few minutes as she unpacked from her grocery trip. And then…

“I’ve got something for you,” she announced, and Kyle looked up from attempting to organize the pantry, trying to hide his frustration with his injured hand.

“Sarah, if it’s pickles again…” he said, trailing off with a shudder, and Sarah cracked up.

One habit she’d quickly developed was buying Kyle every kind of flavorful food she could afford, always making him taste new things, trying to find his favorites. He’d mostly gone along with everything from sushi to cheddar cheese, a little reluctant but good-natured about it; and Sarah treasured the times his face lit up as he bit into a candy bar or a hot slice of pizza. She hoarded these moments like gold, feeling a little proud that she’d found a way to make Kyle enjoy little everyday pleasures. God knew he needed more of them.

Other times, though, the food experiments were less successful. Watching Kyle trying to eat spicy noodles with chopsticks was a little akin to watching Saint George fight the dragon, and the less said about the pickles, the better. It still made Sarah burst out laughing just to remember the way Kyle’s whole face had curdled at the first bite and he’d managed between two hard swallows, “I don’t think I like this very much…”

Even now it took her a second to stop cackling. “No, not pickles,” she finally said, lips still twitching. “Close your eyes.”

Kyle blinked, then shrugged and did as he was told. Sarah produced the ivy from a cupboard with a flourish.

“Voila,” she said, pressing the tiny pot into his hands. “This is yours.”

Kyle opened his eyes, looking at the ivy, and the first flush of joy on his face was so pure it almost made Sarah’s heart skip a beat; she just grinned at him as he stared down at the pot in his hands. But then the light in Kyle’s eyes dimmed as he looked up and said, almost timidly, “Sarah, I’m not sure I can keep a plant alive...”

And oh, her heart was breaking a little again. “You’ll learn,” she said fiercely, mentally beating the sadness into submission. “Ivies are hardy plants. You’ll be fine.”

“So it’s an ivy,” Kyle said softly. He put the pot down on the kitchen table gently, like it was made of fine china, and turned to Sarah. “Thank you,” he said, and he kissed her, and then for a while they didn’t need to talk.

Soon, watching Kyle with his plants turned into Sarah’s second favorite habit. Plants, plural: Sarah found herself bringing home three more plants in the days after, two gorgeous flowering succulents and a simple fern, for him to take care of. One day she caught Kyle watering them just as she arrived home, and the look he was giving the plants was so warm that she blurted out, “I love you,” and Kyle was so flustered he spilled water on his shoes. It seemed like no matter how many times she said those three words to him, he would still act like it was his first time hearing them from her.

One day, Sarah decided, he would get used to being loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my internet friend Umbre for her beta work on these stories.


End file.
